


Unexpected

by strawberryfinn



Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Fluff, M/M, zayn and niall are flatmates???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfinn/pseuds/strawberryfinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn and Niall are flatmates. Zayn is the quiet, brooding, moody pretty boy and Niall is an oblivious idiot. Niall thinks Zayn might have a problem with him, but he’d rather sit around and eat all their food and hog the TV than find out why. In fact, he’s so oblivious that he doesn’t know Zayn’s gay and he definitely doesn’t realize when Zayn falls head-over-heels in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

“Where the _fuck_ is the milk?”

 

Niall Horan stops from where he's spooning Cheerios and the last of the milk into his mouth to look up sheepishly. His mouth parts, half-open, and his crystal blue eyes suddenly flit with guilt.

 

“Er...” he mumbles, his voice trailing off weakly as he glances at the empty carton of milk next to him. His eyes trail back to the source of the accusatory voice, flinching weakly.

 

From where he's standing in his black wifebeater and black boxers, Niall's flatmate, Zayn Malik narrows angry amber eyes at him. Zayn places his hand against the refrigerator and glares at Niall, furrowing his dark, expressive eyebrows down, as Niall cowers under the gaze. Zayn's disheveled black quiff of hair falls easily over his face, and Niall can see a scripted black tattoo with Arabic script lining his collarbone.

 

And then, Zayn grabs a yogurt from the refrigerator, turns abruptly on his heels, walking back to his bedroom and slamming the door.

 

Niall lets out a breath of relief he didn't realize he was holding.

 

Something wet and cold presses into his leg, and Niall looks down.

 

“He's not a morning person, is he?” he asks affectionately, stroking the Golden Retriever's head.

 

The dog whines and pushes her head up into Niall's palm. 

 

“Aren't you a good puppy, Girlfriend?” Niall croons softly, eyes softening. He runs his free hand through his white-blonde hair, letting it run up in clumps.

 

The dog— _Girlfriend_ —licks Niall's palm in response, and Niall can't help the smile that spreads easily on his face, like spreading peanut butter. Girlfriend cocks her head and whines as she presses one of her paws on Niall's leg, and cocks her head, butter-colored ears tilting to the side.

 

“Yes, yes, you're a good girl,” Niall assures her, “and I'll feed you later. I'm the only one who takes care of you around here after all.” He gestures ruefully to Zayn's closed bedroom door.

 

The thing is, Girlfriend isn't Niall's dog, really. She's more of Zayn's.

 

Two weeks before, when Zayn had stalked silently into the flat at night returning from a liquor run, and shoved a box with a golden-colored puppy with the same color fur as Niall's hair, Niall had just stammered in shocked.

 

“I found her on the side of the street,” Zayn said, as he'd handed Niall the ball of puppy.

 

Then, without any further explanation, Zayn had gone to take a shower while the dog had started bawling and licking Niall's face enthusiastically. (This was probably because Niall had just eaten barbecued chicken and he may or may have not had sauce on his face, but he likes to tell people that it's because the puppy loved him from the start).

 

Niall had been surprised—namely for these following reasons: a) first off, who abandoned dogs anymore? There were humane societies everywhere, and his heart was aching at the thought of this poor dog sitting scared and sad on the side of the road, but more because b) Zayn Malik had brought the dog back. _Zayn Malik_ , who seemed more likely to kick puppies and small children in the face than to pick them up on the side of the road. Zayn Malik who wore varsity jackets when he wasn't in his work uniform; Zayn Malik who Niall had never seen smile even once. Zayn Malik who was cool and clipped and attracted attention from girls everywhere because of the whole _bad-boy_ attitude he exuded. The _Zayn Malik_ who seemed to find Niall impossible and annoying. 

 

Niall was pretty sure Zayn had a problem with him. But he couldn't understand in the slightest— _why?_ (Sure, maybe he shouldn't have eaten Zayn's leftover Chinese food, but he was drunk. And he'd bought replacement Chinese food the next day! Two cartons to replace the one that he'd wolfed down in a hungover stupor). Niall had managed to get under his flatmate's skin under two weeks, and he couldn't even understand why Zayn never had real conversations with him. He didn't get why Zayn had that perpetual look of disdain on his face. Niall thought he was a pretty nice guy—pretty easygoing and even though he rambled a lot and had a funny Irish accent to the blokes in London, and he was a bit baffled as to what he did to piss off Zayn.

 

Of course, Niall realized didn't have to be best friends with his flatmate by any means. It would have been nice... maybe... to just be friends, but in the two and a half weeks he'd been living with Zayn, all he'd managed to learn was that Zayn wasn't a morning person and he liked his milk and he had several tattoos. And that his last name was Malik. (From the tattoos in Arabic and the last name Malik, Niall had also managed to deduce that Zayn was some type of Middle Eastern).

 

All other attempts at starting conversations had been finished by grunts. Whenever they ate meals together—which was rare, because Zayn hardly ever left his batcave of a room—their lunches and breakfasts were just studded with one word interjections like, “Salt” or “Butter.” And Niall had been _trying_ , but maybe Zayn was just a lost cause. Or maybe he thought he was too cool and suave to talk to Niall. Maybe that's why Zayn brought the dog home. So that Niall could interact with her instead and just leave the mysterious, broody Zayn alone.

 

Of course, that night, Niall had ended up giving the puppy a bath and buying dog food, because evidently Zayn's uncharacteristic kindness and Samiratan act had ended there.

 

He'd also named the dog Girlfriend, namely because he thought it would be fun to update his Facebook and Twitter statuses with, “Going out for a walk with Girlfriend,” or “Girlfriend just crawled into bed with me.” (Mature, he knows).

 

Niall throws Girlfriend part of a banana, laughing as the dog eagerly gobbles it up and then looks at him expectantly for more.

 

“No, Girlfriend, that's enough human food today,” he chastises, rubbing the puppy behind her ears.

 

The door of Zayn's bedroom creaks open slightly. 

 

“I told you not to call her that,” Zayn says sourly, emerging from the depths of his dungeon (Niall is just imagining it's a dungeon because he's never been into Zayn's bedroom before). Zayn stares at Niall with what seems to be his permanent scowl, and his flattened hair has been styled into its signature quiff, standing tall and regal. (Niall is a bit put off by his own unruly blonde haircut's inadequacy). 

 

Zayn steps out from his bedroom, wearing a fitted black polo and black slacks. “Her name's not Girlfriend; it's Lux.” He says this easily as he walks over and discards a yogurt carton.

 

“Why don't you try asking her what she thinks her name should be?” Niall asks pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Zayn just glares at him, before sighing. “Lux,” he whistles, “come here girl.”

 

The dog sits pointedly, staring at Niall, wagging her feathered tail. She doesn't acknowledge Zayn.

 

“Hey Girlfriend,” Niall coaxes, his Irish lilt slipping into his voice. “Who's a good girl?”

 

The dog barks in recognition, and shoves her face into Niall's crotch. A pleased flush breaks out over Niall's pale skin.

 

Zayn glowers at Niall, his brown eyes flashing. “Hurry up, we're gonna be late for work,” he mutters, walking back into his bedroom and slamming the door.

 

Niall frowns, petting Girlfriend's head. “What do you reckon _his_ problem is, huh? And your name's not Lux—I dunno what he's been smoking.”

 

Girlfriend just looks at him with big, dewy brown eyes, and Niall gives her another banana.

 

At least _someone_ in this flat likes him.


End file.
